Bond
by 1Past and Present1
Summary: The passage of time can simplify intimacy. The world doesn't need to understand the relationship between the two of us.


**Bond**

Naming this one-shot was tricky. I felt like writing something intimate, though this is not my best. I only hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

* * *

"The weatherman lied."

Silver ribs of fine metal reach out from a central axis held aloft, balanced by a rod leaning on my shoulder, the spidery contraption with all its erect fingers supporting black fabric in-between like the membranes of a bat's wing; I am mentally romanticizing my trusty umbrella as I stand gazing upwards from the safety of its shadow, watching the raindrops plummet from the toothy brim, and beyond that, the people who are out and about this grey day.

The weather is miserable. My jacket does little to resist the bitter cold. Passersby hurry to find cover whilst I remain still, focused mostly on the presence of one, an important individual in a sea of strangers.

An amusing thought comes to mind. Quietly, almost as if secretly addressing an attentive ear before my mouth, I utter, "You must be drenched, Renamon."

The world does not notice the redheaded woman apparently talking to herself. It is too impatient, too busy, too numb, to see our connection. In reality, the woman talks to a creature beyond the laws of this place.

The one intended does hear my voice. It doesn't take long for my hidden, ever present protector to reply in a deep, harmonious tone that rises above the pitter-patter racket, unheeded by the moist trudging of boots through muddy puddles, "Yes. Very."

I resist rolling my eyes. "You really don't have to accompany me. I don't need an escort to buy the groceries." Resume my leisurely walk through the glistening city. Glance at a homeless man huddled under a fashioned rubbish bag. "I'll be fine on my own, I assure you."

"I trust your instincts, Rika, but I prefer to-"

"Keep an eye on me, I know."

I feel her breathe. It's like a breeze wafting past my ear, playing with a stray hair and making my cheek tingle with warmth that is alien for the weather. "Only because I care about you."

My innards clench, then grow girlishly bubbly at that. I smile faintly, entering a store. Standing on the threshold, I lower and close my umbrella, which I shake out on a mat intended for dirty soles to be scraped clean.

Renamon's tail flicks, scattering raindrops – I feel it.

"Please go home. I'll be back shortly."

"I am not particularly uncomfortable. I don't mind waiting here."

"You're good to me, Rena. I'll be back soon. I promise. But in the meantime, I want you to be warm and dry. Go home."

She voices her dissatisfaction with subtle, unearthly power. "If you are certain…"

"I am. I'll bring back a little something special from the store."

Her presence then vanishes, leaving me truly alone and resisting the urge to call her back because of how much I've grown to depend on her being around me, guarding me. But I know that she deserves better than to wait in the rain whilst I run such a mandatory errand.

I swallow down the lump that has settled in my throat and pull a crumpled page out of my pocket, unfolding it to browse the brief shopping list.

* * *

I enter a balmy, dry house, where the sights and scents are comfortingly familiar, where I feel my muscles finally unwind; this is home, bought with my money, earned by my hard work, furnished to taste and truly ours – hers and mine.

The Digimon's presence suggests that she's close, but I can never seem to pinpoint her location before she invariably appears out of nowhere, leaning against something or with steaming mugs of tea in her paws, silently waiting for me to turn around and spot her, her cold eyes and impassive stance sometimes startling me in the process. She doesn't admit it, but she enjoys my occasionally theatrical reactions to the sudden appearance of a seven-something foot tall fox monster where there was previously none to be found.

"I'm back, Renamon." I brace myself, suspicious eyes shifting about, which I know will not help. I am sure that one day, I'll leap out of my skin to a low rumble of, _"Surprise!"_ Or maybe, _"Boo!"_ Though that does seem out of her character. It'll more likely be something along the lines of a quiet, ominous, _"You forgot to make your bed again."_

"Upstairs," says my partner outside the realm of my imagination, her tenor a little strange.

Blinking, I am stung with surprise and, after that, concern. She never resists a chance to show off how abominably stealthy she is, even if it's only to take a bag out my hand or lift a coat off my shoulders. There's a distinct sense of pride whenever she greets me, asking how my day was, acting innocent even when I fume or tell her off.

She says nothing more, only increasing my concern.

Carelessly putting my shopping down on the floor, I hang up my jacket by tossing it on a hook with the hope it'll catch, dump my umbrella in its place, slip out my boots and then hurry upstairs. Poke my head into my room and I do not see her anywhere. "Renamon?"

"In here."

I realise that this is not the place I should've checked first. I turn around, socks skidding on the polished floor. "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just making myself presentable… with little luck. Enter at your own risk."

"Okay…"

She clears her throat as I push the door open and gaze upon her abnormally dishevelled continence, the large, crouching Digimon caught in the process of towelling herself off in the bath. A moist trail leads from her to the window, neatly latched after her apparent entrance.

"Hey," I greet her softly. I'm very tempted to say something clever, but I figure she's probably a little distraught being seen like this. Though that's only because she cannot see what I see. And what I see makes me want to hug.

"Hello." She inclines her head modestly. "You were quicker than I'd anticipated."

"You're so… fuzzy."

She tries to pat down the fur that sticks out of her chest, eyes narrowed with good humour. "Rika."

"Sorry." I cannot stop myself from giggling as I take a step forward. "Need any help?"

"I'd appreciate it, thank you." Abandoning trying to make her snowy bosom orderly, she wrings the used towel in her talons, a notable quantity of water running out the pores of the twisted fabric. "I'm sure I look quite alarming."

"No." I pull a fresh towel off of the rack and sit myself on the edge of the bath, shoulder to shoulder with my partner. "Very cute, actually." Affectionately brush the corner of my towel against her cheek.

She turns her angular head to meet my gaze fully. "Cute?"

I wink. "Irredeemably."

She smiles. It's so slight, so shy, that I wouldn't see it if we were any further apart – that is, until the warmth reaches her eyes, and they don't appear frigid anymore. Then it simply takes familiarity between us to know that the smile is there, and I couldn't ever miss it, with whatever distance might separate us; as long as her eyes meet mine, I will know. "Thank you."

I don't answer, instead draping the towel over her thick, strong neck, wrapping my arms around it and leaning into her fur, which, although being wet to some degree despite her efforts, smells delightful. Positioning my hands, I apply slight force with my fingers, pressing them into the cloth in a massaging motion.

She makes a purring sound, letting her muzzle lower onto my shoulder as she relaxes against me, remaining otherwise still.

Minutes pass before I ask jokingly, "Is that nice?"

"Yes," is her murmured response. "Please don't stop."

"Good." Wait a while before continuing. "I brought some yummy treats. They're downstairs."

"Hmm."

"I abandoned them in my haste to find you. I could've scoffed the lot by myself."

"Mm." It's evident that she's having trouble listening.

I pause to scratch her behind an ear, just for fun.

She blissfully shivers.

When I finally move down from her neck to her back and shoulders, and with some effort on the foggy Digimon's part we readjust ourselves to accommodate the odd fit, I am surprised to feel a weight on my leg.

Gazing downwards, it's to discover that she now rests her chin and both paws on my thigh, eyes closed and breaths leisurely deep. She appears to be at perfect peace.

And unbelievably fluffy all over.


End file.
